A Sense of Self Preservation
by picnic.lightning
Summary: After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.
1. The Shakes

**TITLE**: A Sense of Self-Preservation (1/?)

**AUTHOR: **Whoser88

**RATING: **PG

**SPOILERS: **Right after "Normal Again," S6

**SUMMARY:** After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.

**DISCLAIMER: **The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.

**NOTE:** Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts.

**Dedication:** To everyone who commented on my first story -- you guys raised my self-esteem so much! Also, to Laura Pigeon, webmistress of my new site -- -- for all her help and support. Of course, this is also dedicated to my rockin' goddess of a beta, Angelina, who is slowly being converted to the dark side of the force  Plus, she's sick, and needs an emotional boost!

* * *

Her hands hadn't stopped shaking for two days.

Washing dishes, surfing the channels, even flipping burgers at the Doublemeat Palace, Buffy couldn't control the slight vibrations of her appendages.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg. It always started with her hands, then crawled across her skin until she collapsed into a curled-up ball in the center of her room, willing herself not to cry.

This, and they hadn't spoken to her since then. Since she tried…

Buffy was falling apart. She needed someone, anyone, who could look her in the eye. Someone who didn't glance with pity, or remorse over this huddled mass of shame and guilt.

That's why she decided to call Giles.

* * *

The bottle of scotch kept looking better and better to Rupert Giles.

He sat in an ancient leather chair in his flat in Bath, his head resting between his hands, staring glumly at the spirit that mocked him painfully from his liquor cabinet. Since his arrival back in his homeland of England nearly 5 months ago, the cabinet had not been opened since it was initially restocked. Giles had promised himself he would not be reduced to the depressingly comical shadow of himself that appeared when he was inebriated. He would not let her do that to him again. He would be strong this time.

He blinked, once, twice, his eyes flicking up to the clock that read 8 PM. Giles debated ringing some of his "friends," or more aptly put, the acquaintances he had acquired during his time as curator of the British Museum, who knew nothing of the Slayer, his secret life as a Watcher, or the Council. Giles decided against it, unwilling to step into the costume of the mild-mannered curator-turned-high-school-librarian once more.

The Council, of course, knew nothing of his departure from the States, as he would most likely be fired once again for abandoning his recently reinstated post, or simply taken by force back to Sunnydale and his Slayer.

Giles scoffed at the idea of 'his Slayer.' The woman he had returned to Sunnydale to see alive once more was everything but that: alive. This, creature, who wore the mask of Buffy had done nothing but allow him to sink deeper into his hole of grief and guilt over the Slayer's death. Buffy was a shell housing a soul stripped of every emotion but the most primal needs. Just when Giles had placed hope in the rebirth of his heart, when he entered the Magic Box to gaze upon the Chosen One's face, back from the dead, a second chance for him to keep her safe, this doppelganger-Buffy revealed her true mask of depression, anger, and incapability to see the pain those around her were going through.

Giles was not normally a bitter man, and probably would not have had such strong feelings against his Slayer, were it not for the year before.

The year before Buffy's death was a tumultuous time, filled with varying emotions and significant events. The Slayer had dealt with the arrival of her newly formed sister coupled with the departure of her twit of a boyfriend, faced the Council once more, met a Hellgod, and lost her mother. Buffy's face that day still haunted Giles, the utter confusion and defenselessness as Buffy begged him tacitly to "make it all better."

But the underlying theme of the year for Giles was his reassertion of an "identity," and his reconnection with Buffy. She had asked him to be her Watcher again, and they grew closer as the days wore on.

He had been secretly pleased that he was the first to know of Dawn's origins, that Buffy would trust him with that information, and viewed him as a confidant, but more importantly, as a friend.

Everything in their relationship had remained fairly stable until the end days of their campaign against Glory. By the completion of the final battle Giles had given blood, ignored his love for the younger Summers, and eventually pulled out Ripper to repeat an action he swore he would never commit again -- he had killed a human being. All this in the name of Buffy. Poor, anguished Buffy, who jumped off a tower to escape the hell that had captured those around her. Set herself free in the name of martyrdom, which was all well and good until one thought about those left behind.

Giles was at this point pacing the room, his mind ranting silently. 'I put my life out for her, gave her everything I had, I was. And then I kept it together after she was gone, trained her "robotic replacement," played the role of, what did the Scoobies call it? Oh yes, "the Emotional Marathon Man." And when she came back, I played the part of the adult, when al I wanted was to cry out in grief over the loss of the true Buffy, my true Buffy…'

He trailed off and slumped down again in his chair, his eyes blandly taking in the study around him, its ornately carved bookcases, the broad fireplace, the oriental rugs and ancient oak table. To anyone, this room would appear to be the epitome of comfort, but to Giles, its silence spoke volumes, and served only to remind him of his loneliness, of his only true possession that lay across an ocean and a continent.

The gentle crackle of the fire was rudely interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. Giles crossed the room and picked up the receiver, a part of his heart secretly hoping that it was Buffy, or one of the gang calling to convince him he still had a place in this world.

His hopes were dashed by the duck-like voice of Suzanne, a former co-worker of his from the museum. "Rupert? Ah, yes, how are you? A group of us were heading to the local pub for a drink, and thought you might be up for a little fun?" She ended her sentence in a question, unsure of Giles' mood -- lately he had been rather peevish.

Giles sighed into the telephone. "Thank you very much for the offer Suzanne, but I'm not in the mood for alcohol tonight. Give everyone my best," He began to hand up, but paused. 'What am I doing? My present state of mind is all together too depressing. I need to get my mind off America and those in it.' He brought the phone to his mouth again. "Suzanne? Yes, I changed my mind. When are you lot going down? 9 o'clock? Sounds delightful. See you then."

Giles smiled half-heartedly to himself, then left the study to ready himself for his evening.

* * *

Buffy had decided she needed to call Giles, that was for sure. But lately, her body wasn't so eager to obey her mind's commands. In fact, her recent ticks had given the Doublemeat Palace's manager the brilliant idea that Buffy needed to relax, and so she was on paid leave for a week. If she wasn't so preoccupied with her emotional state, Buffy would've laughed at the power the holder of the "Doublemeat Secret" wielded. 

As it was, more time at home meant more time alone. The gang was now officially avoiding her, still somewhat wary of the formerly homicidal Slayer. Occasionally they would speak to her in short sentences, but most of the time she only saw them as they were leaving the house after a visit, or when Dawn and Willow went off to their separate schools. Buffy was generally alone during the day, left to do housework or simply dwell on her actions, or with more and more frequency, be subject to another panic attack.

Her brain wanted desperately to call Giles, but her fingers wouldn't remember the numbers to dial.


	2. The Long Distance Bill

TITLE: A Sense of Self-Preservation (2/?)

CHAPTER: The Long Distance Bill

AUTHOR: Whoser88

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: Right after "Normal Again," S6

SUMMARY: After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.

DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.

NOTE: Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts.

Dedication: To everyone who commented on my first story -- you guys raised my self-esteem so much! Also, to Laura Pigeon, webmistress of my new site -- -- for all her help and support. Of course, this is also dedicated to my rockin' goddess of a beta, Angelina, who is slowly being converted to the dark side of the force. Happy belated birthday Angelina!

* * *

About 3 days after her decision to call Giles (still unfulfilled), Buffy actually had a conversation with another human being. As she made her way to the bathroom to ready herself for bed and another evening filled with nightmares she passed Dawn in the hall. Buffy tried to remain optimistic.

"Hey Dawnie! Can we talk for a sec? I know it's late, but I don't really get to see you much during the day, and I just wanted to check on how you were post Buffy-insanity."

Dawn stared back at her with frost-filled eyes. "Buffy, we won't be able to talk until you realize you tried to kill me -- tried to kill all of us! You can't just ignore something like that! Who are you? You can't be my sister. When my real sister comes we'll talk. But I'm tired, and I'm going to bed now." She brushed past Buffy roughly, swept into her room, and closed the door. Buffy was left in the hallway, mouth gaping, and heart chipped away a little more.

* * *

Buffy felt only cold inside. The gnawing cold she had fought all year against, trying to retain her humanity. She was detached, outside her body, watching indifferently as it made its way to the bedroom, fell onto the bed, and began to weep. She saw the clock move slowly, the hours lost in the gentle rain on her face. At 3 AM Buffy forced herself back into her body, filled with a weak, but present sense of determination. It was now or never.

A shaking hand reached out to the phone by her bed, picked it up, and brought it close, hugging the cool plastic for comfort. She nervously brought her fingers to the numbers, hoping they would not fail her once more. Slowly, with more willpower than she thought she possessed at this point, Buffy dialed the international code and a number she had come to know by heart. Suddenly the phone was ringing, and Buffy realized she would soon be talking to someone who cared about her. She began to cry again, but her breath caught when the line picked up.

"Hello?" The soft accent of her Watcher echoed across an ocean. She was talking to Giles.

* * *

Giles was looking at the paper when the phone rang. Not reading, **looking**. And brooding again. Sullenly, he picked up the phone.

"Hello?" He asked after a moment of silence from the caller. Then he heard a barely audible gasp, a slight hitch in the voice on the line. "Hello? Is anyone there?" He queried once more.

"G-Giles?" He grimaced as he heard Buffy's whisper.

"Buffy." He ground out. "What terrible apocalypse do you need help with this time? Or is Dawn merely misbehaving again?" Giles knew he was being unfair, but after another evening of edited conversation and no alcohol, he was not feeling especially forgiving.

He was almost surprised when Buffy didn't hang up on him. 'The old Buffy would have. Or at least she would have yelled,' He thought to himself. Her quiet voice brought him back to the conversation.

"No, it's not Dawn. She's fine. Everyone's fine. Well, except me."

Giles sighed -- she was trying to get him to allow her to lean on him again.

"Buffy, this is exactly why I left. You can't expect me to simply take care of everything for you. For God's sake, it's been 5 months! Are you truly incapable of handling day to day tasks, even with all your friends around to help you?" Giles did not have the patience to deal with her whining. 'If she could only accept me as a man, and not as a parent...' He buried the thought before it went too far.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Buffy was finding it hard to breathe. Her supposed salvation, a person who always saw past the darkness, had just torn her apart, ridiculing and berating her for her actions.

"Giles...I-I'm sorry. It's just, awful, awful things have happened since you left, and I was just hoping I could see you..."

Giles' blood was boiling. He couldn't believe this! 'Oh, **now** she wants me? Now I'm allowed her life. Brilliant!'

Buffy heart nearly stopped when she heard the icy tones of her Watcher. Giles was furious, this she could tell, but Buffy wasn't really sure why.

"Buffy," He spoke as if to a child, with a deliberate slowness and diction, "I am not going to go back to Sunnydale any time soon, if ever. You are an adult with a team of fully capable researchers and fighters at your disposal. I have no place in this scenario, and I will not be used as a 'security blanket.' Until you fully understand this fact, please do not call me again. Good day."

The phone clicked, and the line was dead. He had hung up on her. Giles had hung up on her. Buffy couldn't process this right now. With a final sob, she melted into the bed, her eyes closing and her mind entering the tortured hell of her nightmares, all the while soft British tones echoing "I have no place...I will not be used...do not call again."

* * *

Buffy slept fitfully until 8 the next morning, staying in bed until she was certain Dawn and Willow had left for their respective classes. Rising slowly, she puttered about the house, trying to keep her mind off the subject that shouted for attention. At 9 o'clock she sat down on the couch, and decided to listen.

'Okay, let's review the events of last night: Dawn says she hates me - check. I call Giles at 3 am, which would be... 11 in England - check. He says he's not coming back, then hangs up. Why?' She pondered to herself. After five months of no communication between Watcher and Slayer, Buffy had almost expected Giles would be excited to hear from her. She couldn't understand why he was mad at all.

She thought over the brief conversation they had. 'Giles mentioned something about never going back to Sunnydale...Wait! He thought I was asking him to come back?! But, but I wasn't! I just wanted to talk to someone. No wonder he was mad! He thought I was being non-responsible Buffy again. I should try to explain,' She paused her train of thought. 'But he said not to call again.' Buffy was torn -- to call might make the situation better, but Giles might be upset...

As she sat there thinking, the phone rang.

* * *

It had been six hours since Giles hung up on Buffy. Six hours and he was still contemplating his actions. He had been harsh with her, and the minute he slammed down the receiver he had regretted his rash actions. Add to that several hours of guilt-ridden self-examination, and Giles was at his wit's end.

The thing that put him off the most was the quality of Buffy's voice, the fragility and meekness that were unknown to him. Even after her initial return at the start of the year she had retained a certain amount of vitality, a bounce in her step and strength in her voice that gave hope to the emergence of her former, happier self. Yet the morning's call had no trace of that. Buffy had spoken in a whisper, her voice choked with fear and...Giles searched for the word...pain.

Something terrible had obviously happened in his time away, so terrible that Buffy could not rely on her friends alone to help her out, instead seeking solace in a man across the seas. And he had shot her down, fueled by his own emotions and idiotic grudge. Ignoring the small angry voice inside his head, Giles decided it was time he did the right thing, and put others before himself once more.

He reached for the phone and began dialing.


	3. Little Hope

TITLE: A Sense of Self-Preservation (3/?) CHAPTER: Little Hope AUTHOR: Whoser88  
RATING: PG  
SPOILERS: Right after "Normal Again," S6  
SUMMARY:Buffy and Giles face the consequences of their recent actions.  
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.  
  
NOTE: Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts. NOTE: This has nothing to do with the story, and everything to do with me being a whore when it comes to self-promotion. If you like the story please visit my site ) and see some of my other fics. Thanks!  
  
Dedication: To everyone who commented on my first story -- you guys raised my self-esteem so much! Also, to Laura Pigeon, webmistress of my new site -- -- for all her help and support. Of course, this is also dedicated to my rockin' goddess of a beta, Angelina, who is slowly being converted to the dark side of the force.

* * *

The telephone rang three times as Buffy considered answering it. She finally did, on the hopes that it would be a telemarketer, allowing her to vent her current frustration. Somewhat unfortunately, it was Giles.  
  
"Buffy?" He asked softly. She barely noticed his change in mood, her mind spinning frantically to understand what on earth had possessed Giles to call back. Deciding understanding wasn't worth that much, she pressed on.  
  
"Giles, I'm so sorry-"  
  
"Buffy I wanted to apologize-" They both began at the same time.  
  
"Ladies first," Giles gently insisted.  
  
Buffy shook her head slightly in negation, blushing and sobering when she realized Giles couldn't see her. "I'm sorry Giles. I didn't...I wasn't trying to get you to come back, to come home..." She whispered the last word, frightened by the fact he might not consider Sunnydale home anymore. "Really, I just wanted to talk to you. But then you did the 'what has Buffy done with her life' unhappy speech, and then the proverbial chop."  
  
"Er, chop?"  
  
"You hung up on me."  
  
"Oh, yes. I-I wanted to apologize for my actions -- they were rash and unfair to you. I shouldn't have assumed."  
  
"It's all right. Water under the bridge and all those other clichés. Can we talk now? I mean, I know it's 5 in the afternoon there, so you might have, you know, post-tea time events or something, and I wouldn't want to keep you so if you're busy then I can just call later or something and um, talk then or if you don't want to talk at all..." When Buffy's earnest dialogue quickly deteriorated to Willow-esque babbling, Giles knew it was time to step in.  
  
"Buffy, it's fine. And no, I don't have any 'post-tea time events,' as you have called them. What did you want to talk about?" Giles walked over to his kitchen table and sat down.  
  
Buffy sighed. 'How do I explain any of this over the phone? Maybe, maybe I could see him? God, if I could see Giles.'  
  
"Well, things got, um, complicated. As I said before, a lot of stuff has happened. And, um, I, um, I..." Buffy felt the tears coming, and tried to shove them down inside, but her defenses were raw with months of repression. The dam broke.

* * *

Giles was horrified to hear the wracking sobs crawl their way across the phone line. 'My God,' was the only thought that entered his mind.  
  
"Ssh, Buffy, ssh, it's all right. You don't have to say it."  
  
A sudden sniff and she could almost breath again. "No, no, I have to. I...I hurt them Giles. Everyone..." That was all she managed before succumbing to the pain again, leaving Giles bewildered and terrified at the state of his Slayer.  
  
"Buffy, please, calm down. We don't have to talk about this now. You, you can't talk to the others?" He barely waited for the small "no" he knew would come before he made the final decision. 'Screw my goddam pride. Buffy comes first -- she always has.'  
  
"Buffy? Would you like to talk in person?"  
  
Buffy hiccupped in surprise. "In-in person? As in, face to face? Not over the phone?"  
  
"Yes, not over the phone. Would you like to come to England for a few days? Perhaps a break from the others is necessary."  
  
If smiles were able to make sounds, Giles was sure he was hearing one now. Buffy's voice rose an octave in her glee, and Giles momentarily wondered at the severity of her mood swings. "Really Giles? Oh thank you. Are you sure it's okay? I mean who'll take care of everything..."  
  
"Buffy, don't worry. I will call the airport now, but that means I'll have to call you back in a bit. Is that all right?"  
  
Buffy smile was genuine for the first time in over a week. "It's perfect."

* * *

At four o'clock, California time, Buffy stood in the main hall of her house, glancing at the front door every few seconds and anxiously playing with her hair as she shifted from foot to foot.  
  
Minutes after finishing her third phone call with Giles she had contacted Xander, Willow, and Dawn, pleading with them to come to the first "Scooby meeting" in weeks. She desperately hoped they'd understand her need to leave, or at least want her out of their sight enough so that she could just go. The meeting was at four, but no one arrived.  
  
The plan was fairly simple, Giles claimed when he returned with the flight information. At least, it seemed simple on paper. As long as Dawn was looked after, and there hadn't been a recent spike in supernatural occurrences, Buffy was to take an early flight on Friday and spend the next three or four days at Giles' estate. But first she had to convince everyone to let her go.

* * *

They all came within minutes of each other, silently shuffling in to sit in the living room, first Dawn, then Willow, and finally Xander. All three sat on the couch, opposite Buffy's huddled figure standing by the coffee table.  
  
"So, uh, guys, I called you here because I need to talk to you all about something..." Buffy stopped suddenly, her eyes finally taking in the scene before her. Willow, looking at the clock on the mantle; Dawn, staring blankly at the desk, and Xander intently studying the makeup of the wood floor. Her two best friends and her sister wouldn't, couldn't even look at her anymore. Buffy was at a loss.  
  
"Y-yeah, Buffy? W-what is it?" Willow stuttered nervously, raising her head slightly, shifting her eyes to a spot of air above Buffy's head. "Um, some t-trouble?"  
  
Buffy was confused. Willow never stuttered -- that was Giles' trademark. She only sounded like that when she was really frightened, and why would she be scared now? Then it hit her. 'Oh god. She's -- she's afraid. Even now, she's still afraid of me.' Buffy thought to herself, a realization that shook her to the core. She had to cover herself, say something, any excuse. She couldn't tell them the truth -- they wouldn't understand, would think she was leaving for the wrong reasons, especially Dawn, who blamed her already for so much.  
  
"Well, uh, yeah. I'm..." She stumbled for words, "When I go back to work, I, I'll have more shifts, so I won't be around as much." She finished lamely.  
  
Dawn, still not looking at her, answered. "**That** was it?! That was what we all had to come here for? God, what a waste of time!" Getting up off the couch she stormed into the kitchen.  
  
Xander and Willow remained as silence descended on the group. Minutes passed, and slowly they rose to leave. Willow immediately sped upstairs to the sanctuary of her room, while Xander paused briefly at the door, turning in Buffy's direction, yet never acknowledging her with his eyes.  
  
"Uh, Buffy...I guess I'll, uh, see you around. In case you need anything, uh..." He nodded, tried to leave nonchalantly, but ended up bolting for the door.  
  
'Well that worked,' Buffy thought to herself. 'I just hope Giles can look me in the eye.'

* * *

Friday morning Willow rose to the ring of the alarm clock, yawning wildly and rubbing her eyes. Opening her door, she listened for signs of the Slayer, and hearing only the sing-song tunes of the birds outside, she stepped outside her room and made her way down the hall, knocking gently on Dawn's door to wake her. Buffy's door was still closed, leaving Willow to assume she was sleeping in again. Relaxed at last, the witch made her way down the stairs.  
  
Humming cheerfully to herself as she poured a bowl of cereal, Willow almost didn't notice the note. It took her only seconds to recognize Buffy's scrawl, but a full minute before the message sank in. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Willow read the letter again.  
  
_Hey Will (You weirdo early riser)!  
  
I'm sorry I just up and left on you guys, but I swear I'm not running away again. I'm actually going to England for a bit -- Giles invited me to stay a couple days. I just... need some time away, you know? Things here were getting a bit too complicated -- and I think you guys could all use some non-Buffy time as well.  
  
You see, I tried to tell you guys all of this before -- when I called that Scooby meeting. But I just couldn't do it -- I couldn't stand there and expect you to understand what I was doing when no one could look my in the eye. When we've reached a point where you and Xander are truly afraid of me, I know that's something's really wrong.  
  
So I packed up my bags and caught a bus last night to L.A.X. -- my plane's early this morning. You know Giles' number, so I guess we'll talk pretty soon.  
  
About patrol -- the envelope under this note has $100 dollars in it, money I've been saving up for a while for something, I don't know, I didn't really have a reason for it -- guess this one is good enough. Give it to Spike, and ask him to watch the place for me? If he refuses, ask him as a personal favor from me -- tell him...tell him I'll do him a favor in return when I get back.  
  
Hopefully when I talk to you on the phone I'll be a little better off. If not, at least I get to see a bit of England.  
  
I'll say hi to Giles from everyone. Take care of Dawn please -- tell her I swear I'll be back, and that I do love her, no matter what she thinks. I love you all.  
  
Buffy_  
  
Mouth open, Willow simultaneously reached a shaking hand for the phone and called as loud as she could, "DAWN!" 


	4. Flight Jitters

**TITLE:** A Sense of Self-Preservation (4/?)  
**AUTHOR:** Whoser88  
**RATING:** PG  
**SPOILERS:** Right after "Normal Again," S6  
**SUMMARY:** Giles is faced with far more than he expected after his initial meeting with Buffy.  
**DISCLAIMER:** The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.  
  
**NOTE:** Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts.  
  
**Dedication:** To everyone who commented on my first story -- you guys raised my self-esteem so much! Also, to Laura Pigeon, webmistress of my new site -- -- for all her help and support. Of course, this is also dedicated to my rockin' goddess of a beta, Angelina, who is slowly being converted to the dark side of the force.

* * *

Giles took a sip of cold tea from the Styrofoam cup, grimaced then forced himself to swallow. He had been at the airport since 5 that afternoon, knowing full well Buffy's flight didn't get in until 7, but aware of the fact that he needed some time to think. The clock now read quarter to 7, and Giles was no more relaxed than when he first arrived.  
  
The problem lay in the fury that sat like a stone in Giles' heart. Try as he might, he couldn't get past the anger he felt towards Buffy over the way she had blatantly ignored the effects her death and return had wrought on her friends and family. But it was not just this that plagued the Watcher -- in fact, this reason was only a minor character in the play of Giles' emotions. A thought that had been pushed aside, forcibly looked over for months, had begun to creep its way into his consciousness once more. Ever since Buffy's return from heaven, since he received that fateful call from Willow, Giles' views on his Slayer had changed. At first, it was subtle, the way he noticed how certain outfits complimented her figure, the way she wore her hair on occasion. But by two weeks after his arrival from England, Giles had to admit it -- he was in love. He couldn't really pinpoint when or why everything was so different, but he now knew he had to be close to her. He dreamt of simply being near Buffy, wished for friendly touches or hugs, longed for acknowledgement as more than a maid to pick up after the mistakes of the others.  
  
But Buffy gave him nothing. In fact, all she did was ask; whether consciously or not, Buffy had slowly pried everything out of Giles -- money, responsibility, decisions -- everything except his well-concealed love. That he would never give, unless she gave first. And that event, he was certain, would never occur.  
  
'And so I left,' Giles thought to himself, finishing the tea and harshly crushing the cup. 'Frustrated over her, myself, all of it, I took the child's way out and ran. Brilliant move, old man. Years of training in strategy and the best you can come up with is "retreat?" Pitiful.' He berated himself, understanding that part of the bitterness he felt these days stemmed not only from Buffy's actions, but his own as well.  
  
Looking up at the airport's track of flights Giles realized it was almost seven, and Buffy's flight had arrived. He pulled himself out of the chair, threw out the remains of his cup, and began to walk briskly towards the baggage claim. 'Ah well,' He considered, 'It's probably for the best we see each other again. She needs me to take charge, and I need her close by. I'll shut out my feelings once again, and play the father-figure. It's a well-worn role, why not?' Swallowing his bitterness much like the cold tea, Giles stood at the claim for flight 109 -- the plane that held the woman he loved. All he could do was wait.

* * *

When Buffy was 9 years old she took her first and only other transatlantic flight. Hank Summers, busy with work as always, was stationed in Rome for most of the summer. However, at this point the Summers patriarch was still concerned with keeping his family together, and so came up with the fantastic idea of shipping his wife and young daughter(s) (two if you count altered memories) across the ocean for a few weeks of "culture." Suffice to say, Buffy's hatred of airplanes first emerged here.  
  
The ride was filled with bawling babies, whining toddlers (one of them her younger sister in an alternate version of the tale), and her mother, who had a fear of flying and sat next to Buffy, nervously shredding napkins and peanut packages while downing glasses of white Zinfandel. And though she was not yet a Slayer, Buffy was still an active child, and felt trapped by the tight squeeze of adults filling plastic-lined seats. The flight had been long, hot, and played a movie beyond her youthful comprehension. But none of it compared to her flight to see Giles.

* * *

"All passengers should note the seatbelt sign has come on, as we will be landing in a few minutes. The crew hopes you've enjoyed your flight on British Airways, and have a nice a time in the UK." The pilot's voice crackled over the PA system, rousing Buffy from her daydream. She looked down at the tray table in front of her, not entirely surprised to see a substantial amount of shredded paper in one corner. The memory of her mother's nervous tick brought a smile to the Slayer's face. However, the smile soon faded with the onset of leg cramps. No matter how petite a person was, no one was meant to spend **that** many hours in a plane.  
  
Dumping the remains of her napkins as the flight crew moved around collecting garbage, Buffy reclipped her seatbelt and settled down to wait for the landing. She avoided eye contact with her neighbors, knowing that they were wary of her, the strange girl who had fidgeted the entire flight. She was positive they had noticed the way her hands shook, or the words she mumbled in her sleep, echoing in her head moments before she awoke. 'I bet they're all real happy to get away from the crazy lady.' She thought to herself.  
  
Buffy's flight to England had been filled with contemplation, torn between her guilt over leaving Dawn and her friends so suddenly, and the impending confrontation between her Watcher and herself. The fear of what Spike would expect as a "favor" when she returned was miniscule compared that of Giles' reaction when he found out about the events of the recent months. She imagined his face impassive as he listened to her failures, the only response shining through his eyes, cold and full of hatred. Buffy wanted to believe he would understand, as he always did, but the more she looked over the past year, the more she was afraid of her Watcher, and the rejection she felt would ultimately come.  
  
The plane set down with a bump, taxied to the ramp, and settled, the giant metallic beast sighing as it began its rest from the long trip. Buffy rose creakily, and exited the plane, visibly relieved to be on solid ground once more. As she walked to the baggage claim, a sickening cycle of thoughts whirled through her mind, 'He'll hate me. I'm dirty, a disgrace. Stop it Buffy. He'll hate me. I'm dirty, a disgrace.' She hugged herself tightly and looked about, searching for the man who would stop the cycle, and answer her questions.

* * *

Giles didn't see her in the first wave of passengers, nor the second or third. It was not until the final stragglers, those kept behind by overeager relatives, or the elderly who couldn't walk as fast, that Buffy entered the baggage claim. Giles' eyes opened wide to the sight before him -- his once radiant Slayer was now a comical rag doll, worn and frayed at the edges. As she looked up and met his eyes, her mouth formed a bittersweet smile, but she clasped her hands firmly in front of her. Giles moved to meet her in the middle of the room.  
  
Looking down at Buffy, it was all Giles could do not to gasp. The flight had been long, but the lines on her face spoke of a perpetual exhaustion that did not come from airplanes. He spoke softly, as if afraid to frighten her away.  
  
"Buffy. Welcome to England. I...I've missed you."  
  
Her eyes danced about, as if searching his face. Voice wavering slightly she managed, "I've missed you too Giles. So much."  
  
They stood uncomfortably for a few minutes, both unsure of the correct action, not willing to risk a hug, or stumble over a handshake. Giles finally broke the silence.  
  
"Let's get your bags, shall we? You've had a long flight, and I'm sure you'd like to sleep a bit." Putting a hand on the small of her back, he gently guided them to the rotating machine.  
  
"Yeah, sleep would be good. Thanks -- for... all of this." She shrugged, then looked to find her bags. Spotting them, she reached out, momentarily forgetting her "condition."  
  
Giles was unprepared for what he saw. The insecurity, the exhaustion, all could be attributed to the depression after her return from heaven. But what he saw now was inexplicable. 'Her hands, they're...they're shaking.' Giles thought in disbelief. Buffy, who wielded weapons nightly, who had the poise of a gymnast and the steady grip of a gunman, now could not keep her hands still.  
  
Hearing his sharp intake of breath, Buffy glanced at Giles' face, then down to her hands, promptly gripping the suitcase handles in a tight hold. Pulling the bags off the machine she turned and began to walk towards customs, leaving Giles behind. Bewildered, he followed slowly, thinking to himself, 'I fear this night will unveil far more than I had expected.'


	5. Overwhelmed

TITLE: A Sense of Self-Preservation (5/?)

AUTHOR: Whoser88

RATING: PG-13 (for language and mention of sex)

SPOILERS: Right after "Normal Again," S6

SUMMARY: After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.

DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.

NOTE: Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts. Also, all medical information in this piece has been researched, but if I am incorrect, please tell me so I can make changes.

Dedication: To everyone who waited nearly a month for this part of the story -- sorry for the delay, and thank you for your patience!

* * *

Silence lay heavy on the pair during the cab ride to Giles' home. Buffy concentrated on the landscape just outside the window, still refusing to meet Giles' gaze. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and Giles could see the effort she was putting in to keep them still. Gently, he called her name.

"Buffy..." She looked over at him. He reached out to comfort her, his hand stopping in midair, as if unsure of his actions. The hand fell as she looked away, and the silence took control once more. Giles understood that a cab was not the place to discuss her "condition," but he was disheartened by the fact that he could not get a reaction from the Slayer, not even anger. All she did was ignore his attempts.

Several minutes later the quiet was punctuated by a short gasp from Buffy. Giles smiled, and got out his wallet, knowing they were near his home. The estate rose before them, majestic yet some how perfect for the area. Rolling hills pointed the way to the manor, an old wooden house that had been in the Giles' family for years. Giles wondered if Buffy even noticed the stable on one side of the manor, housing the beauties Giles had missed sorely while in America.

The car came to a stop, and the two got out, Giles paying the driver and going to the back to get the bags, Buffy standing just outside her door, still staring at the scene in front of her. She barely moved when the cab drove off, and Giles joined her side.

"Welcome Buffy. This," He gestured to the land around them, "Is the Giles' estate."

"Uh..." She replied, still mystified, "I...I mean, I knew you had a place here, but I thought it'd be an apartment, not, uh, this?" She spluttered, at a loss for words.

As they walked up the path to the house Giles explained the history of the estate, Buffy looking on in awe. "My grandfather originally bought the manor for my grandmother, as a place to relax and retreat from the frenzy of London and the Watcher's Council. Here she was free to forget about her duties and be a person, instead of a cog in the mindless machine of the Council.

"After my grandfather died, my grandmother took care of the household, including myself and my mother. My father had a flat in London, as he was almost always working. Lucky for me he managed to come home for just often enough to pronounce how much of a fool I was, and how I would never live up to the Giles' name in the history of the Council." Giles' voice was laced with bitterness, but he pushed on, determined to continue the story. They reached the door, and Giles fumbled for the keys.

"Grandma passed on when I was 15, my mother while I was attending University. My father never took interest in the house, and so when he died, about two years before I left for Sunnydale, I was given the estate, and have had it ever since. I apologize," He said, opening the front door, "It's still a bit dusty -- I haven't really had the chance to clean everything up." They walked through the doorway into the main hall, and Giles' nearly jumped when he heard Buffy's voice. She had been so silent he had almost forgotten her presence in his memories.

"It's beautiful Giles. It's...it's so you." The hallway leading from the door opened out about 15 feet in to reveal a wide main hall, with the entrances to rooms fanning out in a circle, some barred by doors, others merely archways urging entry. The house seemed aged, but not old, the wooden décor worn but not damaged. Buffy smiled as she saw the trail of artifacts and case-covered books, tell-tale signs that Giles lived there. In the middle of the main hall, breaking the circle, were the stairs, leading up to what Buffy could only assume was an equally impressive second floor.

Giles touched Buffy gently on the arm to grab her attention. "Why don't I show you to your room? I'm sure you're exhausted from your flight, and frankly I'd like to put these down," He gestured to her bags, "I mean, for heaven's sake, what did you bring with you? Lead?" He softened the statement with a smile, and smiled wider when Buffy chuckled in return.

"You can't really expect me to pack for a weekend and only bring one bag? That doesn't even begin to cover the necessary wardrobe options."

"Oh, dreadfully sorry. My mistake." Giles was delighted with the easygoing banter, hoping that this would perhaps coax Buffy out of her shell. "Let me show you your room."

* * *

A short while later found them back on the first floor, Giles busily putting together a tea tray in the enormous kitchen as Buffy looked on. "You're absolutely sure you're not tired?" He shot back in her general direction from his position at the stove.

"Yeah. I think I'm kinda wired from the plane ride. Plus, I'd rather have this talk sooner than later."

Giles stopped what he was doing, and turned slowly. "May I ask what 'this talk' pertains to?"

"Just finish making the tea, then we'll talk. I don't want you to get upset and ruin your scones or something."

"I'm simply bursting with laughter on the inside. Well, it's almost ready, so I suppose I can wait. We'll go into the study to sit. It's much more comfortable than the kitchen."

* * *

They sat facing each other on the couch in the study, and Buffy was suddenly reminded of Giles' flat. 'It's like déjà vu all over again, sitting on this couch, about to spill my guts out for Giles to examine and make a verdict. Ugh, that metaphor got kinda gross at the end.' Shaking herself free of her musings, Buffy took a deep breath, and began.

"Giles, like I said on the phone, a lot of stuff happened when you were gone. I'm just going to highlight the important stuff, but believe me, there are tons of little details you b really /b don't want to know about." He nodded, and she continued. "Okay, so Tara left the night you flew back, because she was mad at Willow for the whole magic-abuse thing. Which, I might add, is a recurring theme in our daytime drama," At his blank look, she sighed, "never mind. Anyway, so Willow's addicted to magic, but she's trying to stop, and she's doing really well nowadays. The last thing she did even semi-magic related was mix up that antidote for me..." She trailed off, obviously not ready to discuss that issue. "But she's good, and that's the main point. Xander, on the other hand, is kinda down right now. There was this whole, 'demon-future-glance' thing at his wedding, and it made him realize he wasn't ready for marriage, so he left Anya at the altar. Yeah, bad timing, I know," She replied to Giles' horrified look, "By the way, why didn't you show up? Or even, you know, send flowers or something?" Buffy was trying to keep her voice calm, but it had hurt to have the Watcher absent.

Giles struggled to come up with a good excuse. In truth, he knew that if he had returned to Sunnydale at that point, he would never leave again. She could keep him there with a word, one smile and he would have been helpless, and begged forgiveness, and been a slave to her will forever. So he did not reply to the invitation, hoping that radio silence could prevent him from being drawn in. "I...sent flowers, but I was doing some consulting, and couldn't get away at that time." 'Idiot! Now I sound like a right pillock. Bravo, old boy.' He noticed the hurt that passed through Buffy's eyes, but they quickly clouded again with resolve.

"Whatever," She said, not wanting to let go of the topic, but understanding she had to press on. Clutching her cup of tea, "So that was like, two weeks ago, I think. About 3 or 4 days after the wedding I fought this weird waxy demon during patrol one night. In the end he stabbed me, and injected me with some serum. I can never remember the name...it had something like Kashmir at the end, maybe..." She looked up to Giles for assistance.

"Do you mean to say a Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik demon injected you with its poison?" Giles asked, a tremble of what Buffy prayed wasn't fear in his voice. "Are...are you all right?"

Clutching the tea cup, Buffy searched for words. "Well, after I got stabbed, I started getting these hallucinations. I was in a mental hospital -- I had been for years, schizophrenia or something like that. I would go in and out of consciousness apparently, the doctor said I...lived in these delusions that I was the Slayer, that all of this," She motioned around them, "was fake, just a mindgame."

Giles stayed silent, but kept his gaze on the Slayer. Buffy, unable to keep the eye contact, looked down at her hands clenched around the cup, threatening to crack the china. "I know it sounds, well, crazy, but..." Her voice lowered, "I have to tell you something Giles. When I first started the slaying, right after Merrick came...I, I told my parents about it. They didn't believe me -- why would they? So they sent me to an institution for a couple of weeks...to, get it out of my system or something. Merrick couldn't do anything -- I didn't tell my parents about him. In the end I had to pretend I was better, and lie to them about being the Slayer."

"Oh Buffy, I'm sorry...I never knew...if, if the Council had known they would have done something, I'm sure..." He trailed off, at a loss for an appropriate response. Carefully, slowly he put a comforting hand on Buffy's knee, and sighed in relief when she did not flinch away or ignore him as she had before.

"But see, that's what made the whole demon thing real. It was the same institution, and my Mom and Dad were there. Mom was alive, and they were still together. There was no Slayer, no key sister, no saving the world. I was just some lunatic who wanted to be a superhero. Except this time, I didn't. This time the doctor said we could get me out of the delusions, that if I worked I might be able to leave and come home to my family. They said I had to sever my ties to the other world...I had to kill my friends." Buffy bit back a sob when she saw Giles' remove his hand and move back a bit on the couch.

"You...you didn't?"

"No, so you can calm down Giles. At that point Spike and Xander had captured the demon, and tied it up in the basement so Willow could make the antidote. When she gave it to me I dumped it in the trash, went downstairs, attacked and knocked out Dawn, Xander, and Willow and let the demon loose on them. Lucky for her, Tara came by and into the basement, and the demon went after her." Buffy refused to look a Giles' face, knowing that it would wear a look of growing horror tinged with shame and pity. "Mom and Dad kept urging me to finish it off, but when I saw the demon grab Tara around the neck, it just didn't feel right. All along my Mom said to believe in myself, and I finally listened to her...I, I said goodbye for the last time, then pummeled the demon and let my friends go. By the way, the antidote is very gross..." Buffy's joke fell flat as her voice wavered, and she broke down.

"Oh god. Buffy, what an awful ordeal that must have been. I wish I had been there for you." Giles put an arm around her shoulders, trying desperately to ignore the tiny voice in the back of his head that kept saying if he b had /b been there, he would have surely been appointed head butler of the Summers' household. "So, I'm assuming things aren't quite back to normal with the others then? They haven't quite forgiven you yet?"

Buffy's tears subsided for the moment, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, grimacing at the streaks of mascara that came with it. "Hit it right on nail, Giles. Willow and Xander can't even look at me, and Dawn's slipped right into my former role as ice queen. Hell, even Spike isn't stopping by anymore since I told him off at the wedding..." She stopped, hoping she hadn't revealed too much. It was her worst fear that Giles would find out about her relationship with Spike and see her for the filth she was. She pulled back from the semi-hug Giles had given her, worried that the unusual close contact between Watcher and Slayer would cause her to open up too much. "So I called you, you said 'come see England,' and I came." She put the tea cup on the table and looked up at him.

"Are the others at least looking after patrol, and such?"

"Well, I sorta bolted on them. I tried to have a group meeting, but they wouldn't even look at me, Giles! They were still afraid of me. So I left early in the morning, and left a note for them and some money to pay Spike to patrol."

"After all we've done for him and he still demands money, bloody ponce."

"That and a little sex on the side," Buffy muttered to herself.

Giles' eyes flew open. "What did you say?"

Buffy's eyes soon followed as she realized her error. "I uh...I said..." She struggled for an excuse, meanwhile thinking to herself, 'Shit! I am so dead! Shit shit! How do I get out of this one?'

"Did you say you were..." Giles blushed, "In a relationship with Spike."

'Goddamit. Guess I'll just have to tell him the truth. Well, here goes any hope of forgiveness and redemption from my Watcher.' Buffy thought sadly. "I was...using Spike. After you left I still couldn't really...feel anything. He made me feel something. Usually it was anger, or shame, but at least it was an emotion. After a while, though, I realized I couldn't keep doing it, that it was hurting me way more than it ever could help me, and hurting him too. So I told him it was over."

Giles stood, feeling the anger slowly growing, a fury that rapidly was pulsing through his veins. He spoke quietly, and Buffy cowered, suddenly realizing she was witnessing a similar rage to the one Giles had shown after finding out Angel was alive. "Are you saying that for a year I told him off, told him he could never have you, protected your bloody honor, and I minute I leave, the very second I turn my back, he wins? Are you really that spineless, Buffy?"

Buffy flinched as though slapped. She pushed down the anger that threatened to well up inside her in response, 'One of us has to stay calm,' she reassured herself. "Giles...calm down, like I said before, it's over..."

"Oh, it's over, is it? May I ask you something? Was money the only thing you promised Spike in that letter? If you so recently told him off, why would he risk his pride to patrol? He doesn't need money that badly. So what else did you promise Buffy? Another shag? Come over to England for absolution and cleansing, then go back so another vampire can have his way with you?"

Try as she might, Buffy couldn't stay calm. This was too much. True, she had offered Spike sex as payment, but not the way Giles meant it. She stood and glared at him. "Who are you to say that to me? Why do you care? You b left /b Giles, went across a continent and an ocean to get away from us. Why do you care what I do?"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, GODDAMIT!" Giles yelled, regretting what he had said the moment it left his mouth. He slumped back, grabbing the couch arm for support.

"What?..." Buffy staggered back, trying to absorb the meaning of the sentence. It was too much, Giles yelling at her, condemning her, then proclaiming his love. And the way he had screamed it, Buffy was pretty sure it wasn't fatherly. The thoughts began to crowd in on her, overwhelming her. She looked down at her hands, her shaking hands, and gasped as she felt it begin. A white flame ignited at her breastbone, and the fire spread quickly throughout her body. 'Oh god, not now. Giles, he can't see me like this...' She turned, and began to run out of the room, stumbling as it became harder and harder to draw her breaths. She had to get out before it got too bad, before she lost control.

* * *

Before Giles could even think of apologizing he was watching a chain of events that both perplexed and frightened him. He had expected Buffy to be shocked, but when she turned and ran blindly from the room, his anger dissipated immediately and was replaced by confusion. Following her out into the hall, he found her crumpled at the foot of the stairs, shaking uncontrollably.

"Buffy? Buffy what is it?" He knelt next to her, bending down to see her face. Her eyes closed, she was struggling for breath as vibration after vibration tore at her body. It appeared as though she were shivering, but Giles could see the beads of sweat that streamed down her face. She didn't sweat this much even during training.

Giles searched his memory for what was happening, and slowly something came to him. A lesson from his training, the class on medicine and healing -- panic attacks. The instructor had said the only thing you could do was wait until the victim had calmed down. Grasping Buffy by the shoulders, he pulled her towards him, spoke soothing words to her, and waited.

After ten minutes Buffy came out of it, exhausted and sweat drenched. She looked up at him briefly, but Giles saw nothing in her eyes. He sat back against the stairs, and she leaned into him as sleep claimed them both.


	6. Water of All Kinds

TITLE: A Sense of Self-Preservation (6/?)

AUTHOR: Whoser88

RATING: PG (for some language)

SPOILERS: Right after "Normal Again," S6

SUMMARY: After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.

DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.

NOTE: Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts. Also, all medical information in this piece has been researched, but if I am incorrect, please tell me so I can make changes.

NOTE: I'm very sorry for the delay of this part of the story. Sometimes real life can be a bitch. Personally, I'm just glad I got to do a little writing, and thanks to all who waited patiently.

Dedication: To everyone who's supported my writing and waited for this fic. I wish I could sit and write all day.

**

* * *

**

**Part 6**

****

Giles awoke, and at once knew she was gone. Slowly his eyes opened, and he looked up at the main hall, grimacing at the crick in his neck. He was alone, and his body longed for the warmth Buffy had given huddled next to him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and scraped a hand across his whiskered face. He had an idea of where she was, and, with effort, lifted his aching muscles off the floor and went in search of the Slayer.

* * *

He found her where he had guessed she would be. Buffy sat on the hillside facing the woods bordering the Giles' Estate, her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. A gentle wind guided wisps of her hair in arcs around her head, but she was oblivious, staring out into the tall trees ahead of her. The rain seemed to fall everywhere but on her being, soft, fat drops of liquid that descended quietly from the heavens. The only sounds were those of Giles' footsteps as he approached her.

He stood beside her and held the umbrella over both of them, looking down, pausing as if unsure of how to even begin a conversation. Inspiration failed him, so he took the route of the mundane. "It's raining."

"I know." Her monosyllabic answer left him adrift, searching for a solution that would make things right. But when he thought about it, it had been years since things had "been right." For a man with such a large vocabulary, he was rendered speechless once again by this woman. Luckily for him, Buffy spoke.

"Giles...do you ever, you know, think about how much people hurt each other? I mean, why people stay friends even through all the crap they deal with? Why do it? Why trust in somebody if they let you down?" She had yet to look at him, eyes still fastened on the woods.

"I suppose it's because that's what friends do. If you..." He trailed off, unwilling to say the word that could unravel them both again, "...care about someone, and you know they care about you as well, then it takes a great deal for a...relationship like that to be torn apart. Everyone makes mistakes, Buffy, it's human nature."

He wasn't sure, but it seemed as though she made an slight shake of her head. "But, certain things I just don't understand how you can forgive. If you do so much to a person..." Her voice lowered to a whisper, "...if you allow them to be hurt...you don't deserve their forgiveness."

"I seem to recall telling a young woman several years ago something about forgiveness. How it was 'not done because people deserve it,' rather because they need it. I stand by that opinion even now, and perhaps I should heed it more often." Within the first minutes of the conversation Giles had realized that nothing would be said outright about Spike or Giles' feelings. Though his heart cried out for a response, Giles remained silent - now was not the time.

Only now did she look up at him, and Giles was moved by the sight of her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She blinked, but the eyes reopened filled again, and she swallowed before responding. "Yeah, maybe... maybe you're right. Everyone always needs something." She smiled grimly, and Giles smiled back.

"Would you like to go inside? I must admit I'm getting a bit wet here." The rain had increased in its fervor as they talked, and was now ranging on downpour.

Buffy stood slowly and stretched, Giles cursing himself inwardly for admiring her body, frail and thin as it was. Tear-stained, bloodied, covered in mud or dirt, for Giles it did not matter. To him, Buffy was always a beauty. And always the unattainable.

"Sure Giles, let's head in, grab a cup of tea or something." She stood close to him under the umbrella, and they headed back towards the house in silence, still wary of their words.

* * *

Giles stood at the kitchen counter, frantically trying to ease the angry silence that permeated the room. He was at a loss, his mind racing to come up with a conversation that would neither scare Buffy, nor offend her. Running a hand through his hair, he set his eyes upon the kettle warming slowly to a boil.

He jumped at the sound of Buffy's voice from her seat at the kitchen table. "You know, it's said that a watched pot never boils. And while watching is kinda your job, I think office hours are over."

He turned and smiled at her, glad that they had reached the point where witty banter was acceptable. "Very true, but this pot is the exception, as it seems it will never boil--" He was cut off by the shrill sound of the kettle's whistle. Blushing, he turned around to turn off the stove, answering Buffy's grin with one of his own. He poured the water and walked over to the table, handing Buffy her steaming mug before setting his own down and sitting.

It took Buffy a few seconds to process that the liquid in her mug was not tea. "Hot chocolate? Giles, did you buy this for me?"

He smiled across the table at her, and nodded. "When you said you were coming I decided that perhaps hot chocolate would be helpful. Oh! I almost forgot." He stood up again and went to a cupboard, coming back with a small plastic bag.

"Little marshmallows! Will wonders never cease!" Buffy cried, and busied herself with placing numerous squares of gelatin in her drink.

'Sitting like this, it's almost easy to pretend she didn't have a breakdown eight hours ago,' Giles mused, carefully sipping his Earl Grey. 'But sooner or later, we're going to have to talk about it - if not the entire situation.' He refused to deal with his confession at the moment, and turned to Buffy's problem.

"Buffy." She looked up, and immediately sobered at the serious expression on his face. "We have to talk about your, er, condition."

She glanced down at her hands, then back up to his face, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, I guess we do. What do you want to know? Everything?" He nodded slowly. "Well, the attacks started maybe three days after I got the antidote, but my hands..." She trailed off, and wrung her hands.

"Buffy...please?" Giles gestured to her hands, and slowly, she lifted them so he could see. Every couple of seconds, tremors ran through them, and finally Buffy could stand it no longer. She quickly pulled her hands under the table to rest on her lap, away from Giles' gentle eyes. She would not look in his eyes, would not see the pity held within the green.

"Anyway," She continued, her voice subdued, "No one's really noticed, or if they have, said anything about it. I figured maybe it'll go away, you know, because of slayer healing."

Giles sighed. "Buffy, if only it were as simple as that. The truth is, slayer healing works on your physical wounds. Unfortunately, panic attacks are psychological in origin, and so your abilities can do little. Do you recall when you went catatonic - last year? Your slayer healing did nothing then, and Willow had to pull you out."

"But that was self-inflicted."

"As is this. I'll have to do some research..." He glared at her grin, "...but from what I can remember, the cure to panic attacks is to root out the problem before it becomes panic disorder."

"And panic disorder would be...?"

"A fear of having spontaneous panic attacks. Have you reached that point yet?"

Buffy thought for a minute. "Well, I kinda spaz when they happen. But I'm not really thinking about it 24-7. I get nervous, but about other stuff, not the attacks themselves."

"Good. As I said, I have to read up on this, but I think you can beat it -" Giles was cut off by the telephone, and wondered briefly who would be calling so early. His watch read 7:30 in the morning.

"Hello?"

"Giles? Hey! It's Willow! Um, weird question, but is Buffy there?" Giles turned to Buffy and mouthed "Willow," but she shook her head. She was not ready to deal with her friends yet.

"Yes, she's here Willow. Unfortunately, she's unavailable at the moment. However, it's certainly nice to hear from you."

"Thanks. I'm glad to know she's there. We got a note this morning, and it took me a while to calm everybody down and find your number. We really need a card catalog or something here." Giles smiled at Willow's attempt at a librarian joke. "Um, Giles, is she okay? She just kinda took off for no reason." Giles smile turned quickly to a frown, and Buffy wondered what Willow had just said. She cringed on the wicca's behalf as Giles' voice turned icy, but couldn't help feeling a little happy that the voice was not speaking to her this time.

"Willow, do you seriously believe Buffy left for no reason? If not, do you believe that Buffy would not tell me why she is here? I am trying my damndest to remain civil towards you, but from what I have heard, your response to her episode with the Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik was utterly abominable. You all should be ashamed of yourselves."

"But Giles, you would have reacted the same way!" Willow spluttered over the line.

"When you are willing to make an apology to both Buffy and myself you may call again."

"Fine then! Forget I even called! Just tell Buffy she got fired from her job, and when she's ready to apologize to US, then she should call HERE!" Willow yelled over the phone, loud enough for Buffy to hear. Giles slammed the receiver down in frustration.

"Um, I'm thinking maybe you should just stop answering the phone. It seems like your recent conversations have landed on the sucky side." Giles chuckled at Buffy's comment and sat back down at the table.

"Apparently you were fired. I didn't realize you had a job," Giles admitted, shame in his face.

"Yeah, well, it was awful on too many levels to begin with, so good riddance."

"Should I even ask where you were working?"

Buffy shrugged, and rubbed her neck. "The Doublemeat Palace." She murmured, but for the second time in two days, Giles' heard her whisper.

"The Doublemeat Palace?" He asked, his face a picture of incredulousness.

"Yeah. Well, it's not like I have a college degree, and I kinda needed money fast."

"You could have called."

She looked up at him. "Not really."

Giles had enough sense to look embarrassed about that. "I suppose we did not part on the best terms."

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"It's all right. My apologies as well. But as long as I can help you, I promise to get you a satisfactory job in Sunnydale."

"Does that mean my visit's just been extended?"

"Well, as Willow refuses to apologize, you'll probably get better conversation here. Now, why don't you go clean up and actually spend time in your room while I make breakfast."

"Sounds good." She flashed a smile that warmed Giles' heart, and ran to the stairs. Pausing before leaving the kitchen, she turned to face him. "Giles?"

"Yes?"

A pause. "Thank you," She said, her voice rich with sincerity, and walked out into the main hall.


	7. A Nap and a Chat

TITLE: A Sense of Self-Preservation (7/?)  
AUTHOR: Whoser88  
RATING: PG (for some language)  
SPOILERS: Right after "Normal Again," S6  
SUMMARY: After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.  
DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.

NOTE: Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts. Also, all medical information in this piece has been researched, but if I am incorrect, please tell me so I can make changes.

NOTE: I know that this is a VERY late update, and I'm really sorry for the delay. It took a sick day to get me the time to write, but I finally got this part out. I was planning on ending with part seven, but the characters were determined to have a proper, drawn out ending. So more to come, hopefully quicker than this time.

Dedication: To everyone who's supported my writing and waited for this fic. I wish I could sit and write all day.

* * *

Giles sighed contentedly as he stepped out of his bedroom and began making his way down the hall, finally feeling at least semi-human. The explanation might have been that a good breakfast, clean clothes, and a decent shave always had a way of lifting his mood. Or it could have been the fact that he and Buffy were on speaking terms once again.

As he reached her room he looked in, and smiled at the sight of his Slayer curled up on the bed, fully dressed but completely asleep. He leaned against the door-frame and let his eyes rest upon her, drinking in the sight. It was the first time since she arrived that he had the chance to simply see her, without any emotional baggage involved. Well, except for his hidden love, which, now that he thought about it, was no longer hidden at all. But that was a problem for the future, and for the present Giles was perfectly happy just watching Buffy sleep.

* * *

It was between ten and twenty minutes later when she awoke, blinking owlishly at the figure in the doorway and slowly sitting up to lean against the headboard. "Hey, Watcher-guy."

"Hello. Have a good nap?"

"An excellent one. I have to compliment your family - next time I need to buy a bed, I know who to go to."

Giles chuckled, "Thank you. It's not often one is complimented on mattress-selection, but if anyone were to give such a comment, it would be you."

"Was that one of those back-handed compliments?"

"Perhaps." They shared a smile, and Buffy patted the bed, gesturing for him to come sit.

"We need to talk…again."

"Again?" He sat and turned to face her. "Weren't we talking before?"

"Well, yeah, but that was about silly stuff?"

"You mean you weren't serious about my taste in mattresses?"

"Giles! C'mon - I'm trying to be grown-up here and you're not helping."

He grinned in response to her exasperation. "I apologize. I just… missed this."

"Yeah, me too. That's kinda why I want to talk now, so we can get the boring, serious stuff over and go back to the sarcasm I know you enjoy." Buffy placed her hand over his, and he sobered immediately.

"All right - what would you like to talk about?"

Buffy took a deep breath and began. "I've been thinking about this for a while, trying to figure out how to say this without either of us getting angry again. I'm generally not known for my great word-skills, but I can't let this…thing hang over us while I'm here."

"You want to talk about my leaving Sunnydale." At his words Buffy tightened her grip on his hand, as if to keep him from leaving again.

"How do you always know what I'm talking about without me saying it?"

"Years of practice, I suppose."

"But yes, that's what I want to talk about. And notice the not-yelling. If I were yelling I'd probably sound a bit more like Willow did this morning, and be less with the sitting on the bed talking calmly to you.  
"I can't lie and say I wasn't mad, or that I'm still not a little miffed. But the degree of miffy-ness has gone down a lot, to the point where I hope I can hold a rational conversation about it. But the important thing is, while I didn't and don't agree with your decision to leave, I understand it. It kinda fits in with this whole flingy-theory I have."

"And now I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I figured, since I haven't really explained it to anyone. See, my flingy-theory works like this: Buffy comes back from the dead," he winced at her phrasing, "and becomes the rag doll of her social circle. Everybody has a turn flinging her around."

Curious, Giles nodded slowly.

"The first people are Willow, Xander, Anya and Tara, who fling me back onto Earth from Heaven. Then, they decide to fling me back into my old life without a chance for me to adjust a bit. Next, Dawn flings me into the role of being mom, and Spike flings me into the role of the depressed, darker side of Buffy. Not to say that I wasn't depressed, 'cus I was a bit bummed at the lack-of-heaven scenario. But anyway, a lot of flinging going on within a week or so.  
"So here's where you come in, back from England with your suitcases and your baggy sweaters and your nice comment about me being a miracle, and I think that maybe this is the one person who'll just let me sit for a moment. And you did, for a moment. But I took advantage of that, and that moment became an hour, and then a day, and then a week, and finally you were doing everything. And when you told me you were leaving, I thought you had finally taken your turn at flinging me around - this time I was going to be the incompetent adolescent who needed to take responsibility."

"Buffy, I..." She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

"Nope, this is my time to talk. You get a short rebuttal at the end of my speech. So where was I? Oh yeah, your turn at flinging. So you leave, and I'm mad and sad and other rhyming adjectives, and I use Spike and we've been through this. But through all those screwed up months I think I was actually getting a handle on life, so I didn't think a lot about why you left, except that I was mad about it and not going to call you unless you called first. But then I had my trip into loopy-land, and afterwards I was alone a lot, and I got to thinking. It took me a while, but I finally realized something. I was wrong about my flingy-theory, at least when it came to you. You didn't fling me anywhere; I did it to myself. I didn't feel like dealing with real life and adulthood again, so I flung myself into a little corner where I could convince myself that my depression and decision to ignore problems was okay because it wasn't my fault - the others had pulled me out of heaven. So while I didn't like you leaving, it makes sense that you did, and I understand that I needed to get out of that corner and start to live a little bit.  
"So I had my big epiphany, and between attacks I decided that I needed help, and I needed to apologize, and explain. So I called you. And I'm sorry." She slumped back against the headboard, and opened her hands. "Your turn."

Giles was quiet for a few moments, and Buffy wondered if he was mad. However, he seemed relaxed, and after what in her mind was a life, spoke. "That is the most adult thing I've heard in a long time from anyone, including myself. I left partially for you, and partially for myself, and though I've been unwilling to admit it, I regret my decision, mainly because it was unfair to leave you floundering. So I am sorry as well, but also incredibly happy that you realized how your actions affected the rest of us."

"Yeah, I can be a bit on the self-centered side sometimes."

"As can we all. But the point is that you recognized it, and are doing something to change your actions. Thank you." He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

Buffy blew out a long breath. "Phew. Glad I got that off my chest. And I think I've exhausted my vocabulary for the day."

"Am I free to employ sarcasm now?"

"Yeah, go crazy."

"Then I find it amazing that your vocabulary lasted even this long…ow!" Buffy had hit him on the head with a pillow. "You know, this means war." Grabbing his own weapon, the pillow fight continued, the laughter of the two ringing off the walls of the Giles' estate.


	8. Mundane Musings

**TITLE:** A Sense of Self-Preservation (8?)  
**AUTHOR**: Whoser88  
**RATING**: FRT (for some language)  
**SPOILERS**: Right after "Normal Again," S6  
**SUMMARY**: After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.  
**DISCLAIMER**: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.

**NOTE**: Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts. Also, all medical information in this piece has been researched, but if I am incorrect, please tell me so I can make changes.

**NOTE**: God, it has been way too long since I updated this fic. I'm very sorry to those who have been waiting, and I made a promise to myself that I would finish this within the year. Here's hoping it's done before December. Thank you all for your patience.

* * *

**Part 8**

"Ouch! Blast it!" Giles cried as he burned his hand on the stove for the third time.

"Something wrong?" Buffy asked innocently, her head popping over his shoulder from her position cutting vegetables.

"No, everything's just peachy." Giles gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Hey, no need to get snarky. You're the one who was adamant about cooking the steak. Now go run your hand under the water again."

"I was trying to be generous, as you were forced to cook hamburgers for a living for a good deal of time."

"And I appreciate it, but would you please just move over here and finish making the salad? It'd be nice if you had hands by the end of the night. God knows how depressed you'd be without fingers to turn pages." Giles grudgingly complied, mumbling about the pain he suffered in the line of duty as he crossed the kitchen.

Buffy smiled at the air of domesticity that had settled over the Giles's estate. She had been in England for only six days, but already they were easing into a pattern. It almost felt like the Thanksgiving two years ago, well, except for the Indians and the syphilis and the Angel-playing-stalker. Oh, and now none of her friends were here.

So far Buffy had spoken only to Tara, the sole Scooby who whole-heartedly forgave her, proving once again the strength of the friendship that had grown between them. Through Tara Buffy had learned that the others were continuing on as normal, but from what Tara could see, it was likely that Xander would break soon. Dawn's eyes were also dulled with melancholy, and she was not so eager to slurp her milkshake when she had gone out to lunch with Tara this week. Buffy's hopes threatened to rise, try as she might to keep them clamped down.

In England, things progressed slowly but surely. Everyday followed a simple routine that Buffy had come to enjoy. Most of the day post-breakfast was spent in Giles's large study, with Buffy lounging on the window seat and Giles at his desk. While Giles updated his information on anxiety attacks, Buffy dealt with them in her own way - by talking. She found that once they had gotten past the anger of the first day, opening up to Giles was increasingly easier, almost like the year before, when they would sit in the training room and talk. Except this time there was no urgency, no baddie-of-the-week, and this time, Buffy wanted to hear about Giles's history, too.

It had started with gentle prodding, Buffy posing questions about the house that had led into inquiries about his grandparents and eventually, his mother and father. As the days passed Buffy learned of Giles's mix of respect for and companionship with his grandmother, his love for his mother and his sorrow over losing her, and the bitterness that crept into his voice every time his father was mentioned. Thomas Giles had never been satisfied with his son, and once he explained the duties of a Watcher to Giles, the already tenuous relationship between father and son had worn away to nothing. In the end, it was merely Christmas and birthday cards, with a few tight-lipped telephone conversations thrown in. And then he was gone, and Giles was alone, his mother taken by cancer and his father by a weak heart. Both natural causes. It was only now that Buffy saw the empathy behind Giles's actions during her mother's illness and death. He was not simply being the adult - he was watching Buffy play the part he'd known years ago.

It was during those sessions in the study, especially when Giles's voice became thicker with emotion, that Buffy wanted to cross the room and comfort him. But she had not forgotten his confession, and she was still unsure of where she stood on the matter. The biggest hint she had at this point was that she was not repulsed. Since contemplating Giles's declaration of love, not one single 'ew' had entered her mind, which was a new experience, but not an upsetting one. Buffy didn't know how long she'd remain at the Giles Estate, but she did understand that she needed an answer before she left. She couldn't leave Giles hanging like that. Right now her faith rested in the fact that the answer would reveal itself when it was meant to.

Buffy glanced up from the grill to watch the sun sink into the hills, and sighed contentedly.

"What has you so happy?" Giles asked, carefully avoiding spearing his finger along with the cucumbers.

"Just enjoying another night where I don't have to patrol."

"Well, in that case -" Giles mimicked her sigh melodramatically and turned back to his work with a flourish, blatantly ignoring the glare Buffy sent his way.

It was true, however. For the first time since she had been called, Buffy had gotten a break. She was simply living, and while this was hardly the "normal" life that Buffy often dreamed of having for Dawn and herself, it was the closest that she could get. No patrol, no injuries, no magic, and conversations that didn't revolve around demons or prophecies.

The food finally prepared and Giles's appendages all accounted for, they sat down to a hearty meal. As she poked her dinner about on the plate, Buffy's thoughts drifted to Giles. Unconsciously she examined the face across the table, noting the hair speckled with silver, the emerald eyes flecked with amber, and the ever present crows feet which lent the idea that somehow through a life of sorrow and worry he had found reasons to laugh. Giles's eyes now held a light in them, two full lamps that glowed in the evening dim of the house, a light Buffy could not remember seeing since before her death. The edge of a corner of an idea was uncovered in the back of Buffy's mind, but before she could examine it, her musing were interrupted by the subject of her study.

"I think you're getting better."

"What?" Buffy mumbled around the piece of steak she was chewing.

"Your attacks, I mean. They're coming much less frequently, and though I might be mistaken, if I were an optimist I would take that for a sign of improvement."

"Optimize away, Watcher-mine, it's fine with me. By the way, should I be worried that we're eating beef? Y' know, mad cow and all that?"

"You'll be fine. Ironically, the cow was healthy enough to be killed, so don't worry."

Since she had arrived Buffy had faced a small number of attacks of varying degrees. In the first three days she had dealt with two full-out attacks, and came out of both of them to find herself cold with sweat, wrapped in the arms of her Watcher. It was reassuring to come out like that, knowing that she was safe, that there was someone who cared enough to help her through the harrowing experience. As the days had passed and she had become more relaxed, Buffy too had noted the decrease in frequency. Occasionally she would feel the onset of one, but Giles was learning the signs and how to talk her down.

However, Buffy knew she was far from cured. As miraculous as her life was, psychological trauma did not just reverse itself in a week. the heart of the problem lay with Buffy's shame over her actions with Spike and with her fear of the Scoobies's views of her. She still could not bring herself to talk about it with Giles, though they danced around the subject almost everyday.

"Excellent steak, by the way." Giles broke her out of her thoughts once again.

"Thanks. The salad's great, too. How're your fingers holding up? Need me to cut anything for you?" Buffy teased, smiling widely as Giles pretended to be annoyed at her remark.

"No, I'm quite fine, thank you. After years of wielding blades in practice and combat, somehow I've managed to pick up basic skills with cutlery."

"That a course they teach at the Watcher academy? Forks 101? Maybe someday they'll update the catalogue and introduce a class on sporks."

"Ha ha, yes, you are simply too witty. Consider me dumbstruck." He dug back into the meal, but glanced up again to stick his tongue out at her.

"Giles! I cannot believe you just did that?"

"Did what?" His face was a picture of perfect innocence.

"Real mature, Giles."

"So says the pot to the kettle."

"You know, it's amazing we ever have serious conversations." Giles sobered at her remark.

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

Buffy contemplated re-opening the Spike issue tonight, but decided to postpone it. They were having too good a time, and she still wasn't sure what to say. "No, not really. At least not yet. Maybe tomorrow?"

"All right. Whenever you're ready."

"Thanks." Giles caught the sincerity in her voice, and looked up to meet her eyes.

"For what?"

"For being patient."

"You're very welcome. Now, what did you make for dessert?"

"Wait! I thought you were handling dessert!"

"Was I? Hmmm, well, I'm sure there's something in the house."

"Giles!"


	9. Dawning Recognition

**TITLE:** A Sense of Self-Preservation (9/?)  
**AUTHOR**:  
**RATING**: FRT (for some language)  
**SPOILERS**: Right after "Normal Again," S6  
**SUMMARY**: After the events of "Normal Again" Buffy and Giles are forced to deal with their own respective isolations.  
**DISCLAIMER**: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.

**NOTE**: Single quotation marks (') denote thoughts. Also, all medical information in this piece has been researched, but if I am incorrect, please tell me so I can make changes.

**NOTE**: Wow, it's been four years since I worked on this fic. Way back when, I thought I was done with writing fic, but recently I was inspired to at least finish this piece. I felt like it was just unfair to leave it hanging. So yeah, I have a plan, it does not involve hummus, and I will finish this fic (although I'm not setting a timeline on it). Thanks to those who've stuck by me for no reason all these years. Thanks to crazymeltyland, my persistent friend and beta who nagged me into doing this. And thanks to the new readers who decided to give me a shot. Feedback is always appreciated.

* * *

**Part 9**

There were heavy curtains that covered the windows of the guest room, but the sun still found its way through, bestowing one malevolent shaft of light upon Buffy's face. Try as she might, Buffy could not completely close the curtains, and so awoke with the dawn, as she had for the past week.

"Rassafrassin' sunrise," Buffy grumbled to herself as she rolled out of bed, gasping as the chill morning air hit her bare skin. She groped half-blindly for the sweater lying on top of her suitcase, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, stumbled out into the hallway.

The house was quiet as she crept down the stairs to the kitchen, the large halls silent except for the occasional creak of aged wood. Her teeth chattering, Buffy put the kettle on and quickly assembled a cup of tea for herself. The danger of the kettle's harsh whistle rousing the remaining sleeper in the house caused her to pause for a moment, but the need for warmth and caffeine overrode any sense of sympathy for her host.

Soon enough Buffy cradled the steaming cup in her hands, and walked to the lounge, a small room on the east side of the house which she had decided (after many mornings of investigation) provided the best view of the sunrise. A pale pink had just begun to line the horizon when she settled into the window seat.

As the gray dawn gave way to the lightening sky, Buffy sank into her musings. The sunrise had always held such special significance to her. For so long it had signified everything good – the end of another night of violence and darkness, of evil and a world that few could understand. Sunrise had been everything she wanted to define herself as, an escape from destiny to be just another student, another teenager who was more concerned about the prom than the possibility of hellhounds in attendance.

But for the past few months sunrise had meant only the next iteration of an endless cycle of play-acting, the coming of yet another day defined by numbness and a world crashing around her with noises and expectations. Despite her years of hating the darkness, Buffy had found herself clinging to it, finding solace in the muted colors of the night landscape, in the pure, uninhibited pleasures of brutality and rage she could let flow through her veins before the sun broke in and brought her slamming back to reality, responsibility, and a world that would not let her rest.

Buffy laid her hand against the cold glass of the window. Delicate beams of light were slipping over the hills beyond the estate. No, her life had not magically become raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens since coming to England. She could still feel a black pit in her chest, a wound with puckered edges that so much seemed to fall through. But she didn't fear the sunrise the way she had at home. There was something beautiful in this moment of transition, something safe and comforting in the in between. In these few moments of the dawn, she was neither Buffy the Slayer, nor Buffy Summers the sister/employee/friend. She was simply Buffy, singular, and shockingly, for this instance content to be so.

Without moving her eyes from the window, she felt his presence in the doorway. "Hey there, Mr. Stealthy."

"I didn't want to disturb you. You looked …"

Buffy turned to look back at him. "Catatonic?"

"At peace, I was going to say. It's been so long since I'd seen you … Ah. Well, never mind." Giles ran a hand through his hair. Buffy wasn't sure how long she'd been staring out the window – either she'd been lost in her thoughts for a while, or Giles was remarkably quick at getting set for the day. He was already dressed, in his customary dark sweater and slacks.

"Slayer, here, Giles. Kinda difficult to sneak up on. I've only been sans patrol for a week. Hell, I spent three months dead and came back a finely oiled vamp-dusting machine."

A pained expression flickered across Giles' face, before a smile slid over it.

"No doubt the result of years of excellent tutelage. I'll go put the kettle on. Tea?" Buffy lifted her cup in answer. Giles nodded, and turned to leave.

"Giles?"

"Yes, Buffy?" He turned back to her.

"Can you … could you tell me about last summer?" The same expression ran across his face again.

"Do you really want to know?"

"No one's told me much. I just – I came back and there were all these things to deal with, so many changes that I had to get used to, but no one ever told me the how. No one told me the story."

"Buffy, I, I don't know if I can." Giles stepped into the room, moving to inspect the bookcases lining the nearby wall, his hands drifting across the chestnut shelves.

"Would you try? Please, Giles?" She wasn't sure why she so desperately needed to know. Maybe because she knew that Giles wouldn't sugarcoat it. Or maybe because she needed to find a way into Giles' head, to understand how they had ended up at this point. Buffy could see his shoulders tense, then relax ever so slightly, as if he were only feigning calm.

Giles sighed. "Buffy, when you died, that summer … there are parts that are simply indescribable. In my lifetime I've had the misfortune to lose so many, acquaintances and loved ones alike. But I … it's hard for me to explain, to tell you…" He continued to face the wall, struggling to find the words.

"I felt so many things, the emotions were almost overwhelming. I was furious with you. At times, I loathed you for leaving us, for making what I at that point deemed an ultimately selfish sacrifice. And yet at the same time I blamed myself for putting you in that situation, for not doing enough, not finding another way. I mourned you, I hated you, and I couldn't figure out how to let it go, how to let you go. I became irresponsible, overly introspective, to the point of myopia. I spent hours training that … ludicrous doppelganger, hoping that if I simply talked to it enough, taught it enough, it would somehow replace what I had lost.

"And then one day, after another endless round of training, it asked me why I was still in Sunnydale. I had no answer, and so I left. I left Dawn in the care of Willow and Tara – two twenty-year olds with no income, no experience in the world! I didn't even see the degree to which they were hurting. I look back on that summer, and I see a black hole," Giles finally turned to face Buffy, "Ah yes, in the midst of my soul-baring would of course be a completely appropriate time to laugh."

Buffy had her hands clamped over her mouth, and was clearly desperately attempting to keep her composure. "I'm sorry!" She mumbled behind her hands. She leaned back against the window and blew out a breath. "Serious-face. This is mine." Giles' glare was unrelenting. "I really am sorry, that was misleading. I'm not laughing at your pain, I swear. It's funny because you were basically channeling Buffy in her-post Giles leaving phase."

"I see. Although that categorization is marginally false, if purely on the basis of a comparison of quantity of multisyllabic words."

"You know, Giles, if you think you can hide an insult in a heap of vocab, you're forgetting just how well a certain Slayer did on her SATs," Buffy said, then sobered. "Look, thank you for telling me. It's nice to know that all those emotions I felt after you left aren't age-specific. I'll be honest, Giles – there are times when I still get angry, thinking about it. But I do think I understand the why."

"And you had such a delightfully baffling metaphor to explain it." Giles crossed the room to sit beside Buffy on the window seat, a smug smile on his face.

"Excuse me, I thought we were avoiding humor in the face of soul-baring." Buffy leaned across to smack him on the shoulder, only to be thwarted when Giles grabbed her hand mid-flight. He kept his hold, the unusual physical intimacy catching Buffy off-guard.

"My apologies. Bare away."

"No, no need to rehash things…" Buffy's voice grew quiet. "Do you still hate me for jumping off that tower?"

Giles turned his head to catch Buffy's eye. "Buffy, I won't pretend that there isn't a part of me that's still mourning you. In truth, my leaving probably only made the situation worse. I haven't engaged with the problems that plagued me both after your death and your return." Buffy began to pull her hand back, but Giles maintained his grip, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "But I will tell you that your visit has been immensely helpful. It's nice to clear the air, even if it means exposing old wounds."

"Giles, it's time we talked about Spike." Buffy winced internally as she saw the cavalcade of emotions flash across his face.

"I'm not sure what good will come from this conversation." His tone was ambivalent, and Buffy could see he was distancing himself already. This time Buffy kept their hands entwined.

"Giles, I don't want to talk about this because I feel like I have to, or because I feel guilty about what you might think of me. I used to feel that way, but I realized that was because I wasn't giving you the full Amigo-de-Buffy package. I was treating you like you were my Watcher, but not like you were my friend. And that needs to change, because otherwise we just end up on different continents yelling at each other infrequently."

"I appreciate that more than you know." Giles replied, his voice still deliberately cool but his eyes betraying a hint of warmth.

"Well, good." Buffy said, extricating herself from his hand and standing. "But first I gotta level the playing field. You got to do your big sharefest fully clothed, and I'm not starting this convo in my pjs, even if they are of the yummy sushi variety."

Giles leaned back in mock defeat, his serious demeanor disappearing. "I see, so even with my new standing in your life, I still rank slightly below a tube top."

"Giles, if there's one thing I've learned in my many lifetimes of slaying, it's that vamps have no appreciation for the finer nuances of a well-coordinated outfit. I gotta get my kicks where I can. And ew, tube tops are totally trashy!" And with that, Buffy flounced out into the hall and up the stairs.

"_This_ is the last defense against the forces of evil? Oh, dear lord." Giles chuckled to himself as he picked up Buffy's forgotten tea and went to brew himself a cup of his own. If Buffy truly wanted to discuss Spike, he would need it. At the very least.


End file.
